Sorcerer: A Loveswept Contemporary Classic Romance by Ruth Owen Read Free Book Online

awful.”
    Awful? She looked bloody marvelous. Her brown hair framed her head in a wild halo, making her look like a wood nymph, a creature of legend. But the rest of her was decidedly human. The ripped and ragged dress gave him a first-class view of her slim waist, her graceful arms, and a pair of legs that seemed to go on forever. Ian swallowed, feeling a burning in his gut that had nothing to do with his sore muscles.
    “Dr. Sinclair? Ian?”
    His name had never sounded so sweet. He lifted his gaze, noting the distress in her wide brown eyes.
Wood nymph. Forest creature.
He recalled his victory, the battle he’d fought to save her, but that wasn’t what he was trying so hard to remember. It wasn’t until his gaze drifted down to her petal-shaped lips that he recalled what he wanted to do, what he’d
been
wanting to do for what seemed an eternity.
A mouth that could love a man a hundred ways, and make him beg for a hundred more
 …
    Without a word he reached out and folded her into his arms, determined to try at least one.
    This isn’t happening
, Jillian thought in panic as his mouth closed over hers. The simulator had gotten some wires crossed. Dr. Sinclair wouldn’t kiss her. And if he did, his kiss wouldn’t send pure sunshine shooting through her veins.…
    During the last few minutes Jill had lived a lifetime’sworth of emotions, her feelings careening wildly from horrified helplessness to transcendent joy. Trapped by the brambles, she’d watched Sinclair’s seemingly lifeless body tumble down the hillside, knowing there wasn’t a thing she could do to help him. A pain she’d never felt before pierced her heart. Nearly choking on tears of rage, she’d turned her fury on the orc, pelting him with stones that didn’t even dent his leathery hide. She didn’t give a damn about her safety—she didn’t give a damn about anything at the time.
    But nothing—not her horror, despair, or joy—came close to the intensity of the emotions blazing through her now.
    “Jillie,” he whispered.
    He said her name again, but this time he murmured it against her mouth, stroking her with the double assault of his warm breath and his hot, questing tongue. He dipped between her parted lips like a bee tasting a flower, wooing her with the delicacy of the act. She just—just—managed to survive the gentle seduction. Until he did it again.
    Lord, what am I doing?
she thought wretchedly. This was Sinclair, the man who had a stopwatch for a heart. She tried to pull away, but he held her fast, his steel strength more than living up to his metallic image. She opened her mouth to protest, and found herself invaded by the hottest, wettest kiss she’d ever received. He sampled her deeply, his rough tongue making lazy, erotic swirls that turned her blood to slow, hot honey, and her heart to a pounding jack-hammer.
I shouldn’t be doing this
, she thought again, but this time the intentions behind the words were considerably weaker, like smoke dissipated by the wind.
    Hands that should have pushed him away pulled him closer, seeking out the soft, dark curls at the nape of his neck. Soft and strong, steel and fire—his contradictory textures fascinated her. Common sense sieved from her mind like sand through an hourglass, leaving room for something bright and burning, something too wonderful to be captured by a name. His kiss poured colors into the lonely gray corners of her soul: sunburst yellows, shimmering greens, enchanted blues, and ruby desires. Every stroke of his tongue gave her another piece of the rainbow.
    His hands drifted down, his long fingers spanning all but a few inches of her narrow waist. He pulled her hips against his, gently molding their still-clothed bodies into a more serious embrace. She surrendered eagerly, knowing that a part of her had been waiting all her life for his caress, his spell-binding, kaleidoscope embrace. Instinctively their bodies began to move together in the beginning of a love